Broken Hours

Sometimes, I need to remember that my life isn’t a movie. Days don’t go buy as a series of exciting and significant events that somehow lead to a climax and resolution. I never live happily ever after, I just live, and it’s that simple and complicated all at the same time.

Moments will pass by and I’ll remember them so clearly that even ten years down the line, I can still recall each and every active sense that was present. Then there are the big events that people are supposed to remember like your prom and high school graduation, but they merely become distant blurs in a wrinkle of time that you can never really seem to get back.

Our relationship had both of those things.

He walked into my life and I didn’t really take note of it until several months later. There wasn’t any shining light that surrounded him, no arrows pointing towards his direction that were labeled “potential love interest!”, nor was there any melodic violin tune that indicated the significance of his arrival. No, he was just another guy, completely unassuming, tall, a little bit lanky, and not unlike several other men I’d known at that time. I would have never predicted that he would play on my emotions so much like a timpani that I’m still recovering, two years later.